Snowfall
by yumi michiyo
Summary: Normally: He gropes her. She slaps him. A fluffy fic that looks at the other, lighter side of the relationship between Sango and Miroku. Written for the 2009 MiroSanta fic exchange. Oneshot.


**Author's Note:** Written for the MiroSanta Fic Exchange (as a backup fic). For _**jez35blue**_ :D Sorry for the long wait, and hope you enjoy!

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Miroku did not like snow.

It was ironic, really, considering he had been born in the middle of the worst snowstorm to hit the province in years (according to Mushin) and had once nearly lost his life in a blizzard.

Freezing, nasty cold stuff. He was no poet; that would probably explain why Miroku failed to see the beauty in pure white landscapes, snow-capped peaks and drifting snowflakes. Turning his face from the aforementioned scenery before his eyes, the monk muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath and pulled the collar of his koromo closer.

"What's wrong, Houshi-sama?"

Sango – curse or bless her sense of timing – had chosen this moment to interrupt his train of thoughts (as she tended to do too many times a day).

He smiled up at her. "Nothing, Sango. Nothing at all."

She shot him a look which clearly implied she thought otherwise. "I know you don't like winter, Houshi-sama, so why do you insist on sitting outside on the veranda?"

"Because Inuyasha and Kagome-sama are too busy bickering inside?" Catching the tiny flicker of hesitation in her eyes, Miroku pressed on. "That's probably why you're out here too."

"I – no!" she spluttered, colour tingeing her cheeks. "_I _came out to ask _you_ to come inside before you catch your death of cold!"

Grinning, he patted the wooden planks beside him. "Well, since you're out here, you can join me." Miroku jerked his head towards the fresh flurry of falling snow. "There's plenty of pretty scenery to admire."

Sango wavered for an instant before sitting. "Sake?" he asked, holding out a tiny saucer. "To ward off the chill."

A comfortable silence descended as they drank.

"You never answered my question."

"Mmmm?" He put down his saucer and reached for the pot – only to have Sango ease it from his fingers. Miroku mock-pouted and made several attempts for it. "Sango – not the sake," he whined, a teasing smile in place.

"Just answer me," she persisted – but she was smiling too. "I've never seen you express clear likes or dislikes – discounting your incorrigible lechery, naturally – but you've always made it clear you dislike winter." Sango faltered, before hastily adding: "I understand, if it's because of the Yuki Onna incident..."

Miroku raised an eyebrow. "I'll ignore that unecessary comment about your disapproval of my appreciation of the female form... No, it's nothing to do with that."

"Perhaps you have an aversion to the colour white?"

He blinked in surprise. "Sango?"

Whether it was the delayed effect of the sake, he did not know – but blood rushed into her cheeks. In spite of that she made no attempt to hide her face.

Miroku quirked an eyebrow, grinning like a fool. "Ah, you've guessed my unfortunate condition!" He plucked at his sleeve. "It explains my choice of drab attire and why I am unfortunately immune to Inuyasha's charms..."

"Houshi-sama!" Sango placed a hand over her mouth, trying and failing to rein in her laughter.

He chuckled. "So do you have your answer, Sango?"

"You're terrible," managed the slayer at last, shaking her head and taking a sip of her sake.

"I try my best."

It was getting colder; the sun had set some time ago and the flurry showed no signs of letting up. Both their breaths came in icy clouds; curling misty vapours.

Miroku glanced sideways at Sango. "Are you cold?"

"The sake's taken most of the edge off." It was partially the truth; the alcohol formed a warm pit in her belly which radiated dull, comforting heat and prevented her from feeling truly cold.

"We should go in eventually," he remarked, shaking his sleeve to generate more heat. "But honestly? I'm far too lazy to move."

Sango laughed outright. "And freeze to death out here? That's an interesting way to go."

He winked at her. "Freeze? Who said anything about freezing? If necessary, we could huddle together to ward off this chill..."

She scowled and swatted at him – halfheartedly, because she was still amused (though Sango would rather die than admit it to him).

"Pervert. Can you think of nothing else?"

The effect of her reprimand was somewhat spoiled by the sneeze following it, then two more in quick succession.

Miroku stopped laughing, his eyes growing serious. "Here," he said, untying the knot of his kesa and draping it around her shoulders before Sango could protest. "It looks like your concern for me is best reserved for yourself."

She flushed; the heavy material was warm from his body and smelled of him. It enveloped her like a hug.

"... Thank you, Houshi-sama."

"And now, I really think we should go in and warm up." His hand lingered briefly on her shoulder; the side of one finger grazed her cheek in passing as he withdrew it. "The others will be wondering what is it we find so fascinating about the snow by now."

"W – wait!" Pushing herself to her feet, Sango hastily slid the kesa off her shoulders and thrust it at him, deliberately not meeting his eyes.

"You're sure you don't need it any more?" he teased gently. "It can only get colder, you know... Unless you would like to share a bed tonight to – "

She scowled. "Don't push your luck, houshi. And I mean it this time." The last remark, coupled with a searing glare that could melt the snow around them, was directed at the innocent-seeming hands lying in his lap.

Miroku watched her stalk inside, the most attractive part of her anatomy swaying (deliberately, in his opinion) in front of his face. He had completely forgotten; if winter meant this many opportunities to tease Sango, it could not be that bad.

"And I haven't even groped her yet..." he said aloud. Eyeing the thick snowdrifts outside dubiously, he knew very well what would be the outcome of that.


End file.
